


Too Close

by peterpan_in_neverland



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: (i hate that word), Cunnilingus, F/M, amanda! deserves! happiness!, lowkey angst, mentions of Katriona Tamin, mentions of Odafin Tutuola, slightly angsty ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterpan_in_neverland/pseuds/peterpan_in_neverland
Summary: Post "A Midnight in Manhattan"Rollins and Carisi discuss things that Amanda was sure they'd never bring it.
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Amanda Rollins
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	Too Close

**Author's Note:**

> wow i am In Love with dominick "sonny" carisi jr.
> 
> anyway,,,, enjoy!

“Jesus, Carisi,” Amanda said, putting a hand up to her chest. Carisi turned around, holding his hands up, soap suds falling off of them. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

“Sorry?” He replied, sounding a little unsure of himself, then lowering his hands. 

“I thought you left,” she said, leaning against the wall, trying to get her heartbeat to slow down. It had been almost seventy two hours before she had  _ finally  _ gotten to slow down. Carisi had driven her home— apparently he had gotten some sleep in his office, but Amanda had barely stopped since she had picked up the phone on Friday. 

“I was, but then Billie started gettin’ all fussy, which made Jesse fussy,” he said, and Amanda nodded slowly. He wiped his hands off on his pants, and she cringed inwardly at the dry cleaning bill. “It’s a never ending cycle, Rollins. I didn’t want them to bother you while you were takin’ a shower.” 

“Thanks, Carisi,” she finally said, then took a peek into the girls room. Jesse had her eyes closed, breathing evenly, her hair already starting to tangle against her head. Billie was reaching towards the ceiling, gurgling happily and kicking her feet. “I’m sure you want to get going…” 

“Nah, I haven’t finished the dishes yet,” he said, and Amanda made a face. He started to continue, then brushed it off. “And besides, I accidentally promised Jesse that I’d make her pancakes in the morning.” 

“Carisi…” Amanda said, and he clicked his tongue. She had never heard him do that before, but decided to ignore it. “You don’t have to stay.” 

“Too late,” he said, then shrugged. He turned back to the sink, then stuck his hands back into the soapy water. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Unless you have chocolate chips, then I’m gonna need to go shopping.” 

* * *

“Carisi,” Amanda said, when she unlocked the door for him, letting him back into the apartment. He had clearly stopped by his house  _ and  _ a grocery store, judging by the bags in the crook of his elbows and the backpack hanging from his shoulder. “What did you do?” 

“I got a backpack from my place,” he said, tossing his head backwards in a gesture towards the backpack, “and then, I went shopping.” 

“Yeah, yeah I get that,” she said, then closed and locked her door, “I think I actually meant to ask you more of a why.”

“Already told you, Rollins,” he said. He had successfully extradited himself from the mess of plastic bags hanging from his arms, and he shucked off the backpack. “Jesse wants pancakes.” 

“I can make pancakes.” 

“You can,” he admitted, before poking through the grocery bags. He started to put stuff away, and the domesticity of it all was starting to make her head spin. “But you can’t make pancakes like how Uncle Sonny makes pancakes.” 

“Oh yeah?” She said, pushing aside the feelings of tenderness that had started to uncurl in her belly. “And how exactly does Uncle Sonny make pancakes?” 

“With a special recipe known only by the Staten Island Carisi’s,” he said, waving some celery at her. She wasn’t really sure  _ why  _ he had gotten celery, considering he was shopping for a pancake breakfast, but she decided to let it go. “And, I guess the Manhattan Carisi’s.” 

““The Manhattan Carisi’s?”” Amanda echoed, a joking smile on her face. Carisi smirked at her, with the corner of his mouth, and it made whatever soft feelings she had for him escalate. 

“My drivers license says I live in Manhattan,” he said, and shrugged. He was rooting around in her fridge, trying to find space for the half a gallon of milk he had bought. “That makes me a Manhattan Carisi.” 

“That actually makes you sound just a  _ little  _ like a cult,” she said, and pushed his shoulder. He stumbled a little bit, then looked at her with a smile. 

“You coulda killed me, Rollins,” he joked.

“You have really lost your edge since you became a lawyer,” she said, and his smile faltered. 

“Guess I have.” 

They were quiet. She knew what he was thinking about— her saying that she had lied when she told him she was happy, that she was proud of him. She had been, at the time, before she realized that him putting down his shield and gun for a law degree and a briefcase meant that everything would fall apart. The squad was in deep, trying to keep it together without him, and trying to get Kat familiarized was… exhausting. 

“Hey,” she started, then stopped when he shook his head. He was making that soft  _ shh-shh-shh  _ noise that he made whenever Billie started to cry, and she scoffed. “Would’ya just let me apologize, Carisi?” 

“Rollins…” he stood up straight, looking down at her. He had almost half a foot in height on her, but she still felt tall around him, and it had taken her a long time to realize that he had made her feel that way. “S’alright.” 

“I am happy for you,” she said, backtracking, and watched him raise an eyebrow. “I’m just… frustrated. With Kat, with the girls, and I just-I don’t like it when things change.” 

“I know, Rollins,” he said, then went back to the bags on the counter. He balled up the empty ones, then stuffed them into the bag hanging on one of the drawer handles that held all her other plastic bags. “And really, it’s alright.” 

“I feel really bad about it,” she admitted, and ignored his small laugh, “I shouldn’t’ve said it— I shouldn’t even have thought it.” 

“It’s okay, ’Manda.” 

“Are you sure?” She asked. He turned around to face her, and grabbed her shoulders, then shook her gently. 

“At the precinct, I asked “are we good” and you said “you tell me,” ’member?” He asked, and she nodded, trying to process his grip on her shoulders and his eyes studying her. “So I’m tellin’ you… we’re good.” 

“Okay,” she finally said, and she could feel the Georgia accent hitting her voice strong, out of nowhere. “Okay, we’re good.” 

Carisi nodded, then dropped his hands from her shoulders, suddenly looking like he felt a little weird about touching her. “I’m gonna finish puttin’ this stuff away if you wanna… do whatever you do.” 

She nodded slowly, then glanced around her kitchen— the clean dishes, the groceries, all the bags— then walked back into her living room. 

* * *

She woke up with a start, and a shocked intake of breath. She hadn’t been expecting it, the dream— nightmare— she had had. She was already starting to lose grip of the details, but  _ something _ had happened, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to check on her girls. 

She threw her blankets back and swung her legs off of the bed, already missing the warmth that had started to evaporate into her sheets. She padded out of her bedroom, and down the hall, peeking into the girls room. Billie was snoring, and looking snuggly, and Jesse was sucking her thumb, holding tightly to the stuffed turtle Fin had given her. 

She turned away, pulling the door closed, and letting out a relieved breath. They were fine, she was fine, everything was fine.

“‘Manda?” A voice whispered, shocking her out of her calm state, and she jumped, instinctively reaching for her waistband, where her gun usually sat. “Whoa, don’t shoot.” 

She realized it was Carisi, then relaxed. His voice was thick with sleep, and from what she could make out in the dark, his hair was tousled. She had let him take a shower, to wash out whatever product he had used in it, and now it was standing on end. 

“Hey, sorry,” she whispered, and let her hands drop and her shoulders relax, “I forgot you were still here.” 

“Why’re you awake?” He asked. She heard him fumbling around, and didn’t realize what for until his phone flashlight suddenly turned on. She blinked, and shielded her eyes as he shone it on her. She could imagine what she looked like— tangled hair and bags under her eyes, her lips chapped and peeling. She didn’t want him seeing her like that, but she also couldn’t figure out why she cared. 

“Just mom instincts,” she lied, not wanting to have to deal with the  _ oh, that sucks, you wanna talk ‘bout it?  _ part of having a nightmare. “Woke up, needed to check on them… it happens, y’know, when you have kids.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he said, then tilted his phone down so it wouldn’t shine in her eyes. “But you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, Sonny, I’m fine,” she said, then looked at his face. He had a five o’clock shadow and his eyes were still a little foggy, like he had clearly just woken up. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I heard a noise,” he answered, then scratched at the skin behind his ear, “I was gonna check on the girls, but then you were already there, so…” 

“Yeah,” she said, unsure of where else to go. He was still looking at her, like he was studying this new version of her, and she wanted to cover her face with her hands. She usually didn’t care how she looked when she woke up in the middle of the night, and she was having trouble adjusting to it now. 

“Thanks for lettin’ me stay,” he said, and she nodded, “I really enjoy—” 

“Why don’t you come sleep in my room,” she said, before she could stop herself, and watched a strange look bloom on his face. “My bed is more comfortable than the couch, and I don’t want you to—” 

“‘Manda—”

“—Be uncomfortable after the weekend we just had,” she finished, talking over his protests, and watched him press his lips together. “I trust you, Sonny.”

He was quiet, then nodded slowly. “Okay,” he agreed, and turned off his phone flashlight. 

She stuck her hand out for him, and he took it, flattening his palm against hers. She led him to her bedroom in the dark, easily, and let go of his hand after they made it into her room. She walked around to her side of the bed— it felt weird, thinking about it as  _ her side _ and  _ his side—  _ then turned on her bedside lamp so he could make his way over. 

She watched him, then turned the light off after she knew he made it. The covers were still pushed back from her leaving, and she sat down, listening to the springs of the mattress groan. 

She let herself get settled, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind screaming that this was a bad idea. Finally, she felt the mattress dip beside her, and she steeled herself so her body wouldn’t accidentally roll in response to his weight. 

“Are you sure you’re alright with this, Rollins?” He asked, and she turned over to face him. She could barely make out his face in the dark, but she knew that he was being sincere. “Amanda?” 

It struck her, all at once, the enormity of her feelings for him. How her stomach flip-flopped around him, how she could feel herself blush when he looked at her longer than the rest of their coworkers, how he’d scan her, up and down, after they brought in a perp. How her skin tingled whenever he put a hand on the small of her back when they walked through the precinct together.  _ I am in deep _ , she thought, looking at him as he studied her in the dark. 

“I’m positive,” she whispered, watching the shadow of his silhouette as he pushed back the blankets, then pulled them over himself after he laid down. “Sonny?” 

He turned, looking at her. She could see him much more clearly now that he was closer, and that his face was level with hers. “Yeah?” 

“You’re really warm,” she whispered, and he let out a soft laugh, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. 

“My niece tells me that same thing,” he said, “she says that during the winter, whenever I pick her up from preschool.” 

“She’s right,” Amanda agreed. Her eyes had completely adjusted to the dark, and she was searching over his face, studying all the little features that she couldn’t see under normal circumstances.

“Thanks, again,” he said, and she heard the sheets shuffling, and knew he was moving around. “For lettin’ me stay, and for lettin’ me be Uncle Sonny.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she told him. 

“I’m glad,” he answered. She let the conversation evaporate. She was happy, just searching over his face, cataloguing all of his features in silence. 

“D’you remember,” she said quietly, breaking the long stretch of silence, “that story you told Kyle? That hockey player?” 

“‘Bout Bobby Bianchi?” He whispered, furrowing his brow. 

“Fin thought you were lying about it, just trying to get Kyle to talk,” she recounted, and Carisi nodded almost imperceptibly, “but you weren’t, were you?” 

“No,” he finally said, after a short silence of him likely weighing his options, “I had seven stitches, an overnight stay in the hospital. Sliced straight through my nostril, like lunch meat.” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that,” she said. She took a chance, and reached a hand up to cup his face. She ran her thumb over his nose, trying to feel for a scar. “I wanted to kick Bobby’s ass after I heard you told him.” 

“I’m sure Sing Sing is kicking his ass for you,” he joked, and she blew out a breath in resemblance of a laugh. He reached his hand up and covered hers, and moved her thumb around to the side of his nose. She could feel the scar tissue— a thin line that stood out just above the rest of his skin. “That one took three stitches— everything else was just one, to keep my skin together.” 

“God, Sonny,” she whispered, tracing her thumb over the scar. He let his hand drop, and she moved hers, skimming her fingers over his face, trying to find any others. 

“Most of ‘em faded a long time ago,” he said, and she nodded. He closed his eyes, and let her run her fingers gently over his eyelids.

“Did I ever tell you that I got shot?” She whispered, and watched his eyes widen, and felt him set his jaw from beneath her palm.

“No,” he answered. 

“I got sniped,” she said, and Carisi sat up, her hand falling from his face. 

“You got  _ sniped _ ?” He repeated, in a stage whisper. She sat up, pushing the blankets off of herself, and turning her bedside lamp on. 

“Yeah,” she said, and looked down at her hands. She felt a little weird about this, about telling him, now that the light was on. “Um… Fins partner in Narcotics took a bullet for him years ago. His daughter got real unhappy about it. She was military trained, so she started sniping people Fin cares about.”

“Jesus, Rollins,” he said, and turned to look at her. “When was this?” 

“ _ Years  _ ago, about… two years before you came along,” she said, trying to sound jokey, and shoved his shoulder. 

Carisi half-smiled, then his face dropped again. “But you’re okay?” He asked, a startling amount of gravity on his face. 

“I’m  _ fine _ , Dominick.” He raised his eyebrows, looking at her a little funny.

“I like it, when you say my name like that.” His words instantly sent butterflies through her, and she could feel her skin heating up, blood pumping in her ears.

“Oh, yeah?” She asked, and hoped she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt. 

“Yeah, that teasin’ tone,” he said, and she laughed softly, looking down at her lap, “only  _ slightly  _ better is the angry cop voice.” 

“Dominick,” she said, trying to summon any angry cop she had in her, and she felt a little like she was falling short. “ _ Dominick _ .” 

“That one,” he said, and pointed a finger at her briefly, “I always liked the angry cop voice.” 

“I’m a fan of the snarky lawyer voice,” she said, and looked up at him, searching his face, “you’re really starting to get it down, Sonny.” 

“I am?” He asked, sounding genuinely proud, and Amanda nodded, smiling. “Thank you, ‘Manda.” 

“And thank you,” she said. 

“For what?”

“ _ Everything _ , Sonny.” She put her hands back up to his face, cupping his jaw, and swiping her thumbs over his cheekbones, just to feel them. “For doing my dishes, cooking dinner… for loving my girls.” 

“They make it pretty easy,” he said, that joking smile on his face that he always wore whenever someone said something kind about him, “I mean, Billie loves anyone tall and Jesse thinks it’s cool that I know Italian lullabies.” 

“It is cool,” she said. He smiled, like he was trying to brush it off, tilting his head to the side, when she kissed him. 

He wasn’t expecting it— he made a soft  _ oomf  _ noise, his mouth half open, and she could feel his surprise on his mouth. Her teeth had clicked against his, and she cringed inwardly at the noise, but it shocked her back to herself. She pulled away, her eyes opening.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sonny—” she was saying, already regretting it, realizing she had screwed up, when he took her face in his hands, pressing a kiss to her mouth. She sucked in a surprised breath, her hand drifting up to his chest, and she could feel his fingers in her hair. 

“God,  _ Amanda,  _ don’t apologize,” he whispered, moving away from her lips and pressing a kiss against the corner of her mouth. He continued on, scattering kisses across her cheek and down her neck. She felt the pillows underneath of her, but barely registered the fact that she had moved at all; Sonny's mouth was over a pressure point on her shoulder, his teeth scraping against her skin, and she heard the sound of her breathy moans, could feel her heart beating in her chest.

He pushed her top up, and she raised herself, lifting her arms up so he could pull it off of her. He tossed it on the ground, vaguely in the direction of her hamper, and looked down at her. She was breathing hard, could feel her chest rising and falling against the mattress. Suddenly, she wanted to cover herself up. She knew what he was seeing: her stretch marks, her scars, the sag in her breasts from feeding two children. 

He surprised her, moving a hand to press it softly against her stomach, over her belly button. “You’re so beautiful, ‘Manda,” he whispered. She scoffed, ready to brush his kind words off, when he clicked his tongue at her. “I mean it, you’re so lovely.” 

“Sonny,” she whispered back, reaching a hand up to his face. His stubble scratched at her hand, and he smiled, before turning his face and pressing a kiss in the center of her palm. She giggled, all girly, before looping her hand back around his neck, and pulling him down for a kiss. 

He kissed her mouth, then her cheek, then her neck, trailing a line of warm kisses and hot breath down her body. He pressed a kiss to her belly, letting his tongue dart out in between his teeth, and she gasped quietly. 

“Where’re you going with this, Sonny?” She asked, and could hear the rasp in her voice, raw from kissing him, from how much she wanted him. 

“Wherever you’ll let me,” he answered, nipping at the skin on her hip, just hard enough to leave a mark. 

“I’m not gonna stop you,” she said, quickly losing her train of thought as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pajama shorts, “but there’s a ninety-nine percent chance that Billie will start crying by two-thirty.” 

“What time is it now?” He whispered. His voice was thick, and his tone sent a shiver of arousal down her spine. Her pajama shorts were around her ankles, and he was kissing along her thighs, from her knee to the hollow of her hip. 

She forced herself to look away from the top of his head and toward her nightstand. Her alarm clock read  _ 1:17 AM  _ in fluorescent red letters, and she thanked whatever God was listening. “We have an hour, maybe,” she managed, underestimating, then gasped with a sharp inhale as he pressed his mouth to her, over her underwear, his breath fanning the fire on her already heated skin. 

“Good, I can take some time.” He moved his mouth to her other leg, and she groaned, raking her fingers through his hair. 

“Dominick, c’mon,” she complained, and tugged his hair gently, “don’t tease me.” 

Sonny chuckled, then pulled away from her, sitting up. She whined softly in protest, but stopped when she realized he was pushing down her underwear. She lifted her hips to help him, then caught his eye. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were swollen. She liked the look on him.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked, his voice low— she was starting to like that, the gravelly tone he got when he spent his energy kissing her. She could feel how much she wanted him, in the pit of her stomach. 

She nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered, nodding again, and closing her eyes softly. She didn’t want to watch him; she hated that, actually, watching men go down on her, hated watching them go to the trouble. 

She felt his hands first, on her hips, rubbings circles over her hip bones with his thumbs. He moved, pulling her underwear off the rest of the way, and she could hear them hit the floor with a soft crumpling noise. She wiggled her hips, trying to get his attention.

He kissed her stomach first, then her hip, crossing to her thigh. He was scattering kisses randomly, keeping her on edge, he wanted her guessing. She tugged on his hair, but he ignored her, choosing instead to move up even farther, and kissing a hickey onto the skin just beneath her ribs. 

“Sonny,” he said, and dragged her nails down his neck, just to make her point, “for the love of  _ God— _ ” 

“You’re really bossy, y’know that, right?” He asked, upwards of a laugh, and she was getting ready to respond when she felt his breath ghost over her center. 

“I thought you liked bossy,” she managed to say, pushing through the sudden scramble he had sent her mind into. 

“Angry cop,” he corrected, kissing her folds, drawing a sharp moan from her. He moved one of his hands from her hips and used it to part her folds, rubbing at her clit with his thumb. She moaned, and pulled harder on his hair, and he hissed against the dull ache on his scalp. “Easy, ‘Manda.” 

“Sorry,” she whispered, biting her lip, loosening her hold on his hair. He was still circling his thumb slowly over her clit, and she was starting to get antsy. It’d been so long— since before Billie was born— and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. “Sonny, please.” 

He listened to her. She felt his tongue against her, his thumb dropping away. He was circling around her clit, teasing her, and she was starting to get annoyed when he flattened his tongue against her. She pressed her lips together to keep from moaning loudly. 

He was tracing the alphabet, slowly, and she was trying to keep track of which letter he was on, trying to hold out, when he slipped a finger inside of her. She let a moan fall from her lips, all breathy, and opened her eyes to check the clock. 

_ 1:55 AM _

She closed her eyes again. It had been almost a half an hour, and he was already working her up, building her towards release—  _ m _ , he was on  _ m _ , and he was curling his finger inside of her— he was terrifyingly good at this, at working her up, at making her feel good.

“Dominick, I—” she started, wanting to warn him in case he wanted to pull away, but he cut her off, making that little  _ shh-shh-shh _ noise, and the vibration is what finally sent her over the edge. 

She moaned, her hips bucking up, but he pressed them back down with his free arm so he could work her through it, licking and kissing softly while she came down. 

He was pressing warm, sloppy kisses to her thighs when she opened her eyes again. Her fingers were still tangled loosely in his hair, and she extradited herself from it, shaking out her fingers. 

“Oh, my God,” she said, taking in his appearance and laughing, covering her face with one hand. His hair was standing on all ends, and he looked a little blissed out, his pupils wide, his lips swollen and in a big smile. “You look kinda crazy.” 

“Thanks, Rollins,” he said, his voice thick but sarcastic, “you look great, by the way.” 

“C’mon, Sonny, don’t be like that,” she said, and poked at his side with her foot. She suddenly became aware of the fact that she was very naked and that Sonny was still completely dressed, and felt awkward. “Here, let me put  _ something  _ back on.” She made it to her feet, her legs a little wobbly, and managed to find her pajama shirt. 

“Lemme get you a clean pair of underwear,” he said, then went to her dresser. 

“You… know which drawer has my underwear in it?” She asked, making a face as she pulled the shirt back over her head. 

“I’ve done your laundry before, Rollins,” he answered, then tossed her a pair of underwear that her mother would’ve called  _ grandma panties.  _ They weren’t the best look, but she liked them anyway. 

She pulled the underwear on, making sure they were fit snug against her hips, then asking “Back to Rollins, huh?” before she could stop herself. Carisi looked up at her, his hands still on the handle of the drawer. 

“If you don’t want me to—” 

“No, it’s fine,” she said, and ran a hand through her hair. She knew it had to be messy, and she dreaded the idea of looking at herself in the mirror tomorrow morning. “It’s good, y’know, to know that things are still normal, after… that.” 

“Yeah,” he finally said, after a stretch of silence.

As if on cue, Billie started to wail, and Amanda knew that she would wake Jesse soon if she didn’t get her. “I’m gonna go take care of that,” she said, and slipped out of the room. 

She pushed the door to the girls bedroom open, and lifted Billie out of her crib. She was fussy, but her cries started to lapse into watery gasps after Amanda picked her up. She pushed her top up, sitting down in the rocking chair, and latching Billie on after calming her down from her cries. 

Amanda loved breastfeeding, and was sort of heartbroken by the fact that Billie seemed to be weaning herself well enough. She really only breastfed for comfort now, and she liked the food that Amanda fed her more than she liked her bottles. She was going to miss it, once she stopped crying to be fed in the middle of the night, but she was glad to have it now. 

Billie delatched herself after a half an hour, and let Amanda shift her around to burp her. By the time Amanda set her back down in her crib, she was fast asleep again, making soft snoring noises that made Amanda’s heart melt. 

When she walked back out of her daughters room, Carisi was asleep on her couch, one of her throw pillows under his head and a fuzzy red blanket covering his body. She sighed softly, but didn’t wake him up, choosing instead to walk quietly back into her bedroom and go to sleep, alone. 

* * *

“Can I have another pancake, Uncle Sonny?” Jesse asked, sitting on one of the tall stools at the kitchen bar when Amanda walked out of her bedroom. She had a strip of bacon in her hand, and was chewing on it, talking with her mouth full. 

“You’ve had two already, Jesse,” Carisi said, but set another pancake on her plate anyway. She smiled at him, and made a kissy noise— her new way of saying thank you— and set her bacon strip down. 

Billie was in her high chair, smearing chocolate chip pancakes over her face and into her hair, babbling happy nonsense at Frannie, who was waiting for Jesse to drop a piece of bacon. 

“What’s going on in here?” Amanda asked, making her presence known. She padded into the kitchen, and kissed Jesse on the head before sliding into the stool next to her. 

“Uncle Sonny made pancakes and bacon and I’ve had  _ two  _ pancakes already, but now I’m having another one,” Jesse said, holding up three bacon grease coated fingers. Sonny chuckled softly from his spot at the stove, and Amanda looked up at him. 

He looked good. He had shaved at one point, which made Amanda a bit curious as to if he had brought a razor from home or had one stashed in her apartment. He had pushed his hair back from his forehead, clearly just with water, but she was already thinking that she preferred the sex tousled look she had seen the night before. 

She wanted to bring it up as much as she didn’t. How nice it was, how cute he looked, how good she felt. 

“You want coffee?” He asked, already sliding a mug in front of her without waiting for an answer. She pulled herself out of her questioning reverie, and resolved not to say anything unless he brought it up. 

“Thank you, Sonny,” she said, and smiled at him. 

“I’m done, Uncle Sonny,” Jesse said, and pushed her plate away, hopping down from the stool. “Can I go play?” 

“After you wash your hands in the sink,” he said, and Jesse listened, running off to the bathroom, “and sing your ABC’s, like I told you!” He shouted after her, which earned him an annoyed huff from the direction of the bathroom. 

“I’m afraid of when she becomes a teenager,” Amanda said, taking a sip of her coffee. He had added milk and sugar, like she liked, and she was a little shocked by it. 

“Eh, maybe she’ll get all her attitude out before then,” he said, “sometimes it happens.” 

“I definitely didn’t.” 

“Maybe havin’ a cop-mom will keep her in line.” 

“Hopefully,” Amanda said, then thanked him when he set a plate in front of her. He turned the stove off, grabbed a half empty coffee mug, then walked around the bar, sitting next to her. 

“Hey,” he said, setting his coffee down on the counter, “are we good?” 

“Yeah, Sonny, we’re fine,” she said. She grabbed one of the pieces of bacon he had made for her, and bit into it. She was always surprised by how good of a cook he was, and this was no exception. “I don’t want anything to be… weird.” 

“Me either,” he said. He tapped his nails against the counter, and took a deep breath. “So we go back to normal? Nothing ever happened?” 

She wasn’t surprised that he asked, but it still stung her, a little. She hoped he couldn’t tell. She hoped that all the years of interrogations and lies to perps had made her good at masking her feelings. 

“If that’s what you want,” she said, and nodded. She tried to search his face, to get something out of him, but if he had something to give up, he didn’t show it.

“Okay,” he finally said, and Amanda nodded. She looked back down at the breakfast he had made for her, and sighed, quietly.

_ Too close _ , she thought, cutting her pancake with the side of her fork,  _ too close. _


End file.
